Wallpaper is cheaper than paint here so most people use that instead. Our entire apartment is wallpapered, including the ceiling. The paint that is used is more like chalk and comes off if rubbed against it. Constantine is always getting after Dave for having a dirty coat because he has brushed up against the walls.

Dave and I were lulled to sleep last night by a man outside, obviously drunk, passionately singing “To dream the impossible dream” in Russian. I don’t know if that spurred my nightmare or not but it was a bad one. I dreamt I came home to find that Becky had decorated the girls’ room with a myriad of wallpaper. The beds, bedding and decorations resembled our current apartment, which to say the least, isn’t my style {as Emi always says}. I was speechless as she assured me she had decorated using the best of the best.

Enough of cereal, yogurt, toast, mac n’ cheese, etc. I determined I wanted fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Nothing and nobody was going to stand in my way. They could try but they should be warned, they’re taking their life in their own hands, there is no lifeguard on duty, proceed at your own risk, etc.

A funeral. The thing standing against the wall is the casket.

When we stopped at the store last night I bought the fixings. Getting the chicken from the meat counter was a little interesting. I found what looked like chicken breast. I hope it was. Try as I might I couldn’t help but notice the whole fish that everyone before me ordered. When it was my turn I pointed to the chicken. The lady pointed to the fish and said something, probably how much. I pointed to the chicken again and held up seven fingers. She said something again and I said, “Ya ne pani mayo,” I don’t understand. I’ve managed to perfect that phrase. Then I counted to seven. She understood.

The next problem was finding chicken bouillon. The only thing I could find that remotely looked like it would work was a small packet with a picture of fried chicken on front. We called and invited the Straders for lunch the next day and with visions of my planned meal in my head I was able to swallow Ramen for dinner.

We had hoped again to go to Dnipropotrosk for church but Constantine is out of town and we can’t take the girls in a cab. With Conference in the background I started the meal and quite enjoyed myself. The first problem came when I opened the packet of what I thought was chicken bouillon. It ended up being seasoning for frying chicken. I searched the cupboard here and found a jar of chicken bouillon. Perfect. Now I had flavoring for my chicken and bouillon.

I started frying the chicken while boiling the potatoes. The aroma took me back to Grandma Karren’s house and I thought I was in heaven. Everything was going great. I drained the potatoes and put some butter in. But as I poured from the bag of milk I noticed something wasn’t right. The consistency was more like buttermilk and it tasted sour. Kefir. So Dave was off to the store. He came back with a different bag but the same thing. But by the time I figured it out he had gone to meet the Straders at the bus stop. So I had to call Bill to ask him to tell Dave to stop and get more milk. He came back with yet another bag of kefir. Finally we deciphered the word meaning kefir and he brought home milk.

I got the potatoes squared away and went to finishing the gravy. But when I opened the can of bouillon inside was a white powder. Hmmm. I sniffed. It didn’t smell like anything much less chicken. I tasted. It was a little salty but again not chicken. I thought, “Well, maybe it does something magical when added to liquid.” I added just a little but couldn’t detect a difference. Leslie smelled and tasted and determined it was not bouillon but baking powder. Duh. No wonder my gravy was rising and bubbling. It was lacking in flavor but not lightness.

Despite the mishaps the meal was a hit. My craving was satisfied, we had great company and we were all grateful for a home-cooked, familiar meal. After all, what’s more American than fried chicken?

We picked the girls up this afternoon and took a stroll to the park. We are all happy Natashia came back for a few days. The rides were running when we got there and we decided we would give them 15 gryvnas each. We had Natashia explain this had to last them the whole day, including a stop at the store. When it’s gone it’s gone. The rides were 5 gryvna each. They quickly chose one and when that was over they wanted to go on another. We reminded them they only had 10 gryvna left. Liuba pocketed hers and said she would save it for later. Karina ran to the other ride. I felt like I was with Emi and Luke. Emi is always saving and Luke spends money as fast as he gets it.

But Karina did decide to wait to spend the rest until we got to the store. I knew right when we walked into the store we were in trouble. The girls went crazy. I wonder if they have ever had their own money to spend before. I kept pointing to the money they held in their hands and the price tags. I told Karina she didn’t have enough and she shushed me with her hand and said papa would pay. So I figured they’d have to learn the hard way, at the register.

They finally settled on about three items each. Liuba was first in line. The lady rang in the first item and it came to 13 g. I showed Liuba the amount and pointed to her money. She understood and I thought the lady did too because she hurried away with the item. Dave was getting impatient and I had to shoo him away lest he ruin this priceless learning experience. He’s leaving in a few days and won’t have to deal with this. I’m going to be dealing with this for another three weeks. Not to mention that this is not reality. We don’t live like this at home.

Not only had the lady not understood but she returned with two more of the same thing and rang them in. Forty-nine g. I did the best I could at explaining and finally she got it and set them aside. Liuba happily settled on one treat ringing in at eight g and sixty-eight cents. Later she gave Dave her change for safekeeping. She said the other kids would bother her about it.

Karina was next and she didn’t have enough to pay for anything she had. So we went back to square one. I showed her several option but she only wanted what she couldn’t afford so we finally just left. She cried but there was no pouting or running off. I felt bad but how else can we help them understand. We’re not made of money. Frankly, after this trip we’re broke. And even if we weren’t we don’t generally do handouts with our kids. I don’t want them to have false expectations of what our home is like.

Liuba gave her quite a lecture on the way back. She reminded Karina that she went on an extra ride and that was why she didn’t have more money. Then she told her not to worry. Everything would be ok. This is a side of Liuba I haven’t seen before. Usually it is the other way around with Karina lecturing Liuba. We did pass the scone place on the way back and Karina bought three. She generously shared with all of us. They were really good and in my head I was sitting in my Grandma Porter’s kitchen eating fresh, warm scones. It’s been a good food day.

Liuba’s cheek is even more swollen today. She rubbed it a few times but when I asked if it hurt she quickly said no. Later she said she, “doesn’t want to go to the hospital here. They’re bad. In the states they are good.” I wonder if that is why she won’t admit it hurts. Apparently they take sickness very seriously here. Strader’s said one of the girls they are adopting spent several days in the hospital for what was essentially acne. She asked them to get her out of there saying it was very dirty. They were also told when a woman has a baby they stay for at least a week. Natashia has told us you want to stay away from state hospitals. The doctors do not have enough training and can buy their degrees. Scary.

Tomorrow morning is court. Liuba is so excited. She asked about it all day wanting to know what she had to say and what she would be wearing. She wants to wear her sport outfit. From what I’ve heard, the judges in this region actually read all the paper work and it lasts for about two hours. Dave says he’s going to ask that the ten days be waived so I can get home and care for our other children also. I highly doubt Ocsana will let him but I sure wish it were a possibility. Apparently the waiting period used to be 30 days but they always waived it. Not so anymore.